Rest Your Arms
by innocent-vessel
Summary: Steve Rogers didn't like Darcy Lewis. Not much. Not at first.
1. Chapter 1

Well you can give your arms a rest

there's nothing worth taking the risk

there's nothing down here but the mess that we will leave when we see

the sky touching the earth touching the stone touching my love

You know my arms are aching to be wrapped around your spine

- Rest Your Arms (Low Low Low La La La Love Love Love)

Steve Rogers didn't like Darcy Lewis. Not much. Not at first.

In some calm and generous moments, he realised that part of his animosity had nothing to do with her. She and Jane Foster had moved into Stark Tower about three months after the alien invasion of New York.

It wasn't exactly an easy time in his life.

Not that he could remember too many easy times. Maybe when he was crushed into a dingy one bedroom flat with Bucky, travelling to recruiting offices by day, and getting dragged out on double dates by night. But that memory made his heart ache like it would leap out of his chest, so he tried not to remember it most of the time.

After New York, though, he had started to develop a sense of belonging. Being thrown into action had forced him to put aside his misery for the time being. And leading a team had brought something important back to him. He felt useful again.

Despite SHIELD's point of view on the situation, he and Tony continued to stick their noses in New York's seedy business and occasionally managed to thwart a few plans.

Steve was particularly fond of breaking up a mugging. It was honest work, even though it irked him that his bruised knuckled were always healed by the time he got back to the Tower.

Even Clint and Natasha, when they weren't otherwise involved in SHIELD business, would often join them. And while Bruce would never voluntarily engage in their "superhero shenanigans" as he called them, he was a constant presence in the Tower ever since Tony had renovated during the repairs and installed fully equipped lab space just below the living quarters.

There were enough distractions around, enough work to do cleaning up the Tower and cleaning up the city, that he didn't have enough time to fall back into the depression that had gripped him the moment he had realised, standing in the middle of Times Square, that absolutely everything he ever knew was gone. He could almost imagine that he fit in here.

And then, one morning, two petite young women had barged into the Tower, loud and brash and whip smart, and Steve resented it.

To be fair, he didn't have much time to resent Jane Foster, because she spent most of her time in the Tower lab with Bruce or in the SHIELD labs, working on the Bifrost.

Darcy, though. Darcy was everywhere.

She wore her lips red like Peggy, and her curves made him wonder what she'd look like in olive drab. But she listened to noise that she insisted was music, and tried to tell him what he should read, and wore her iPod constantly, and was indelibly and irrevocably modern.

He couldn't stand her.

"Heya Cap," she said brightly as she breezed into the living area.

He gritted his teeth and carefully placed a marker in his book. There was no quiet reading time available if Darcy was taking a break from the lab.

"Miss Lewis," he acknowledged as politely as he could, without lifting his head from his book.

She ducked around in front of him, tilting her head to read the title of his novel, "The African Queen?" She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. "You don't approve?" he asked dryly.

"Well if you insist on only consuming pop culture that was produced before you were frozen, you're never going to catch up." She said in a matter of fact tone, falling back into a chair opposite him.

"An interesting opinion, Miss Lewis," he said tightly, turning back to his book pointedly.

"It's not like everything about modern culture is terrible you know," she went on, clearly not taking the hint.

"I haven't come across anything particularly positive yet," he snapped back at her, harsher than he intended. Something about the way she just wouldn't leave him be just really got to him.

She flinched a little, and he immediately regretted his tone, but just buried his head in his book instead of apologising.

His mother would have been appalled.

"Well," she said, in a more subdued tone, "to be fair to modern culture, you haven't really been looking, have you?"

He glared at the page for a long moment, not reading a word, before dropping the book in exasperation, "Maybe I don't want to…."

She was gone, back to the lab, no doubt. Working her way into his life through the very few people he could call friends. He saw the way that Bruce was wound a little less tight around her and the way Tony actually spoke to her with respect from time to time.

He couldn't figure out how they didn't see it. How pushy she was. Couldn't she just let a man have his space? Did she always need to be the centre of attention?

"Question Cap," Darcy announced as she blew into the kitchen like a hurricane, completely ruining his morning cup of coffee.

"Yes Miss Lewis," he grumbled.

"D'you know how girls in your day got their hair to stay up in those side roll thingies?"

"Victory rolls," he corrected her.

"Right, victory rolls." She agreed placidly, "Well do you?"

"No Miss Lewis, I am not an expert on women's hairstyles." He ground out.

"Aw come on, you must have seen a girl pin up her hair once or twice when you were a show girl."

"Show girl?" he could hardly believe the nerve of her.

"Or at least taken it down," she continued with a suggestive wink that nearly made him drop his coffee.

And then it made him think of Peggy.

"I'm not discussing it, Miss Lewis." He said curtly.

"Didn't mean to bring up bad memories Cap," she said, rather softly for her, really.

"It's the good ones that are worse," he found himself saying. He blinked. He wasn't quite sure where that came from. He supposed that anyone who needled that much was going to draw something out eventually.

"You know," Darcy leaned a hip against the counter near where he was sitting, "I know this tower is full of strong silent types, but sometimes it helps to talk about this stuff Cap."

"Well I wouldn't talk about it with you Miss Lewis." He shot back.

Dammit, she always seemed to draw him into saying something rude. He tried not to care when her soft smile hardened a little.

"Wasn't asking you to Cap." She responded woodenly. She was silent as she poured herself a cup of coffee and left the kitchen.

He found it more oppressive than her chatter, for some reason.

Apparently, it was her birthday.

And apparently, no one had bothered to tell him about it until the last minute. In fact, it didn't really seem like anyone was planning to tell him at all. He found out essentially by accident.

"So Cap, you picked out a birthday gift for Darcy yet?"

"A what?" Steve dropped his hands, stilling the punching bag to look back at Tony.

"They still had birthday gifts in the depression right?" Steve would almost have thought it a serious question if he didn't know Tony better.

"I know what a birthday gift is Tony, I just don't know why I'm supposed to be getting one for Miss Lewis." He said shortly.

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Meow, Captain. What did Darce do to deserve that? Kick your puppy or something?"

He began unwrapping his hands, clearly not going to get any more alone time in the gym. "She didn't do anything Tony. She's just…we're not friends."

"Well," said Tony, his eyebrows still somewhere up around his hairline, "the rest of the folks around here consider her a friend and we are throwing her a birthday party tonight. It would really be quite rude, very un Captain America, if you didn't show up to a birthday party in your own home." Tony looked…disappointed in him. Tony Stark thought he had bad manners.

He sighed. "I'll make an appearance." He said, his jaw clenching at the thought of having to play nice for an hour.

"You know," said Tony as he walked out, "Eventually you will have to make friends with someone who doesn't take orders from you."

Steve absolutely loathed the way that Tony always managed to say the most irritating things right before he walked out of a room.

Steve dutifully sang along as Pepper brought out a birthday cake and all the residents of the Tower crowded around Darcy to watch her blow out the candles.

"Make a wish, kiddo" said Clint.

Steve was forced to admit, standing a little away from the group, hands shoved in his pocket, that she looked beautiful. Her face lit by the candles, smiling up at the group.

He could have sworn, as he was watching her, that her eyes flickered over him just before she blew out the candles. But it must have been a trick of the light.

"Presents now!" said Jane in a surprisingly commanding tone for such a tiny woman.

Not exactly having a lot of time, or really a strong inclination, to pick out a present, Steve had simply gone through his collection of paperbacks that had somehow survived, preserved by Howard Stark. If she was going to insist on shoving modern culture in his face, she could take a little bit of her own back. And he knew that she read a lot. She was constantly telling him he needed to be reading one book or another.

The look on her face when she unwrapped the book, though, made him think that maybe he had miscalculated.

"Steve," she breathed out, "is this a first edition?" She ran her fingers over the cover, slightly yellowed with age but still in good condition.

"I suppose so," he said uncomfortably. "I got it when I was a kid."

She looked up sharply. "It's one of yours?" her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yes." He was avoiding her gaze. He hadn't really thought about it, but he supposed he didn't really share the few remaining pieces of his old life with other people very often. And he had just given her the first edition of one of his favorite novels. Why did he do that? It was just to prove a point, right?

"Rebecca is one of my favorites Steve, this is incredible." She stood up somewhat hesitantly, which was unusual for her, and leaned over to press a kiss against his cheek. He held still for it stoically, trying not to notice the feel of it.

"Thank you."

He didn't like it, the look on her face, the way she was looking at him, and the way it made him feel really awful for all the times he was rude to her. Which, he supposed in retrospect, was all he could call upon to explain what he said next.

"It's just an old paperback," he said cuttingly, "don't make a big deal."

There was a dark stillness that settled over the room as all eyes turned to him. He watched Natasha's eyebrow raise at him dangerously, felt his cheeks start to flush in frustration and embarrassment, and decided to cut his losses.

So he turned on his heel and left.

He snuck out later that night, looking to spend some time in uniform, looking for a fight. Things were simpler for Captain America than they were for Steve Rogers.

By this time, he knew the areas to check out, the nightclubs near the edge of downtown: enough people, enough places to drink, and enough dark corners for there to be trouble.

He was perched at the top of a fire escape, his eyes tracking a man wearing a collar pulled up to high and a scarf wrapped too tight for the weather when his phone, tucked into a pocket of his suit, vibrated.

"Tony," he answered after looking at the screen.

"Cap, you out and about tonight?" Tony's voice was flat, without the humor that usually laced everything he said. Steve supposed that he deserved it.

"Yes," he answered simply, "what's up?"

"We lost Darcy. We went out downtown, but for some reason she was a little upset and she wandered off on her own."

Steve sighed. "Where were you, I'll head in that direction and keep an eye out, let you know if I see her."

"It's the least you could do," said Tony sharply, and then he named a cross street quite close by.

But before he could move, he saw the man he was tracking following a woman walking quickly down the street, far too close to the darkened alleyways for comfort.

He couldn't just walk away from it.

Just as the woman passed the open entrance to the alley way where Steve was perched, the man grabbed her arm and dragged her into the shadows, shoving an arm over her mouth and pressing her against the wall.

"You keep your mouth shut and give me your purse, girl, and maybe I'll let you just walk out of here."

Steve was already in a particularly foul mood, so he was rather morbidly glad that this particular mugger was getting a bit physical.

He slid down the fire escape ladder, dropping down on the man`s right side.

"You let go of the girl, and I might just leave you for the police." He said, gratified to see the man tense in surprise.

"Buddy, why don't you just…" he turned and saw Captain America, with his best disapproving face on and his shield at the ready, facing him down.

He dropped his arms and started backing away. But Steve was too stunned to follow him as he ran out of the alley, because the girl, her makeup smeared and tears in her eyes, was Darcy.

She was staring back at him, wide eyed. He didn't look away as he picked up his phone. "Tony," he said as the line picked up, "I've got her. I'll take her back to the Tower."

Tucking the phone away, he walked up to her. "Are you alright?" he reached out, it looked like her cheek was bruised from where she was pushed against the wall.

"Don't touch me," she nearly spat at him, sliding away down the wall.

"Miss Lewis…" he paused, "Darcy…" Steve was at a loss, she was angry at him. He supposed he deserved it.

"Just don't." She said, more control in her voice this time, pulling her jacket more firmly around her and wiping at her eyes, "I get that you're Captain America, and you'll save the girl every time, even if it's me, but I don't really want to take any more from you tonight."

"Even if it's you?" Something was sinking in the pit of Steve's stomach. Sure, he found himself irritated by her constant prodding about his past and modern culture, but she was still Darcy. Did she really think it would even cross his mind that he wouldn't come to her rescue?

He had really messed this up-.

She paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I was trying to help, you know." She said, pushing away from the wall. "No one in the Tower ever really asks you how you're doing… And your eyes are always so sad. I was trying to get you interested in being here. Everyone needs something in their lives."

"I have something," he said, gesturing with his shield.

"Not Captain America," said Darcy sadly, "Steve Rogers. The Captain might be off saving damsels in distress every night, but Steve Rogers just sits around the tower, refusing to let go of the past and make a connection with the present. It's heartbreaking Steve," her voice caught in her throat and it pulled at something in his gut.

He didn't think anyone had noticed.

"But I'm giving up," she said finally, "I get that I'm not helping. I promise I'll leave you alone. Just, do me the same favor, okay?" Her chin was pointed firmly up, but her eyes were hazy with unshed tears.

He wondered how he could have been so self-absorbed, so miserable that he had misunderstood her so thoroughly.

He opened his mouth, even though he didn't know what he was going to say. But she stopped him with a hand up.

"I just want to go home."

He waited silently beside her until Happy drove up, he sat beside her silently in the car, he rode silently beside her in the elevator until he saw her safely to Jane, who threw her arms around her friend and glared at him.

His mind was anything but silent.

He was replaying in his head every time he had been angry at her, every time he had been rude and drove her away. And she had just been trying to help.

He thought, perhaps, that the fact that he had been pushing her back like that probably made her right. He wasn't moving forward.

Maybe he did need help.

And maybe the thought of getting attached to something again, getting attached to someone, was terrifying.

Over the next few days, he had a lot of time to think about it. He was left well and truly alone.

He knew he was getting the cold shoulder, and that he definitely deserved it.

Also, he really needed to fix it before the team needed to Assemble again.

He just didn't know how to go about doing it. He had been a soldier for so long, and he was a different man now than he had been before the war, in far more ways than just the physical.

He had no idea how to be this man, in this time. And he'd been avoiding it like a coward, and taking it out on the one person who thought it worth her time to push at his defences.

He felt terrible.

Now, though. Now she wanted nothing to do with him. She would leave a room if he entered it, and every time he caught her eyes, the sadness and hurt he saw there made him look away.

Steve had always thought he was a pretty nice guy. Now he wasn't so sure.

It was Natasha, as it often was, who finally took action. And by "took action," she walked up to Steve in the living room with a determined look and cracked him across the face in an open handed slap.

"What?..." Steve managed in a shell shocked tone. Dammit, that woman could hit.

"Sit," she instructed him firmly, pointing at a couch.

He sat.

"We're all sick of you continuing to punish yourself like this, so I thought I'd do it for you and get it over with." She said sharply.

Steve could only gape at her.

"You've been having a rough time acclimating to the 21st century, that's understandable, and maybe we all should have stepped in sooner, but we chose to let you have your space."

Steve nodded warily.

"Darcy, who is far more emotionally stable than the rest of us, tried to help you, and you responded by being an asshole." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he finally managed to speak.

"So fix it," she said with finality. "You make up with Darcy, you make up with the team."

"Yeah, you're right." He was still a bit dazed by the whole conversation, or maybe the slap.

She turned to go, "And Steve?"

He looked up at her questioningly.

"Let her help you, if you can. She's…she's the closest to real life that we have around here. It helps."

I was easier said than done, as it turned out. It became very clear to him how muchDarcy had been seeking him out, trying to draw him into conversation, because now he could hardly ever find her. When he did, she was never alone.

The thought that she had continuously been looking for him, thinking about him, when he had been so rude to her, made his gut clench. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in keeping himself away from the world, from not moving outside the comfort zone of being the Captain and a member of the team, he could have been enjoying it.

He would have enjoyed it.

He wanted to.

Because she was smart, and well read, and funny, and yeah a bit pushy, but he kind of liked that in a woman. And dear God in heaven how could he not have noticed how beautiful her eyes were before she was looking at him so sadly.

He was an idiot, that's how.

In his defence though, he'd never been good with beautiful women. And when he was afraid of getting too attached to the world, having something to lose?

Well, he could definitely get attached to a girl like Darcy.

He tried to shut down that train of thought. He'd be lucky if she'd ever speak to him again, after how he behaved.

He finally tracked her down out on the balcony one night. She was curled up on one of the padded deck chairs, reading a book in the light streaming out from the living room.

He approached very cautiously.

"Hi," he said, wincing at the look in her eyes as she put down her book.

"Do you need something?" she asked sharply, and he definitely deserved that.

"I've been trying to find a minute with you all week," he started nervously.

"I know," she said flatly. "I've been avoiding you. I promised I was giving up."

"Don't," he was standing next to her now, her face half shadowed as she turned up to look at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Don't give up on me," he stuck his hands in his pocket, wishing he didn't sound quite so pathetic when he said it.

There was a long pause. And then Darcy put a marker in her book, set it down, and stood up to face him. In her bare feet, her head barely reached his shoulder, and Steve couldn't help thinking how easy it would be to pull her into his arms, how well she would fit.

"You really hurt my feeling Steve," she said finally, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, looking up at him defensively.

"I know," his voice was quiet even to his own ears, "and I'm so sorry. I was just so wrapped up…being…"

"Miserable?" she suggested.

"Alone," he finished. "And it's hard to be lonely when you're around."

Her lips twisted up into the beginnings of a smile at that.

"You know," she said wryly, "that was sort of the whole point."

"I'm an idiot," Steve agreed readily, "But I've sort of always been an idiot around beautiful women. Not typically quite as spectacularly idiotic as I have been with you, generally just…awkward, but…." He ran a hand through his hair, he was rambling.

And she was staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked softly. And the way she was looking up at him, her big brown eyes soft and focused on him, made him think that maybe he had a shot at this, if he could figure out the right thing to do for once in his life.

"Of course I do," he said with a feeling that surprised him.

"I thought you couldn't stand to be around me…" she broke his gaze, her eyes cast down. She looked so vulnerable that all he wanted to do was reach out for her. So he took a deep breath, and reached out to wrap his hands around her slender shoulders.

"It was my fault," he said, "I was so afraid of having something to lose again. I guess I was just hoping I could stay alone, never be anything but the Captain, and never have to lose anyone again. And you…" he blew out a breath. This conversation was leading to things that he had only just started letting himself think about and were still terrifying to him, but he owed it to her.

"I think that if I had ever let myself really talk to you, I would have fallen for you in a second."

Darcy looked up at him sharply, eyes wide and surprised.

"Well," she said shakily, "you're talking to me now."

This was the moment that Bucky told him he was always terrible at. Where he thought maybe he should make a move, but then would immediately second guess himself. For the first time in a long time, he remembered Bucky with a smile.

Come on soldier, once more into the breach, take that hill, over the top, whatever it takes. You have to learn to take your chances Steve-o, who knows when you'll get another one.

"Yeah," he said, one hand moving to cup her cheek like they always did in the pictures, "I am." And he leaned in, moving slowly until he saw her eyelids flutter closed, giving her time to move away. But she didn't, and he pressed his lips against hers, soft and sweet. Her mouth opened under him, and the taste of her was intoxicating.

It was brief, really, and innocent. But Steve felt his whole world reorient. Suddenly, everything worthwhile wasn't behind him, and greater adventures lay ahead. He rested his head against the top of her hair, reeling with the idea of it.

It was her who pulled away first.

"Steve…" she started, "I can't just…"

He stepped away from her immediately, "I'm sorry," he blurted, his stomach sinking. Of course she didn't want…

"Steve," she was smiling at him, rolling her eyes in amusement. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh," he felt silly, a flush heating his cheeks, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning, "good."

"Come back here," she said softly, pulling her arms around his waist until she settled her head against his chest. He tentatively stroked the silky hair lying down her back and thought that she really did fit well in his arms.

"What I meant was I can't be the reason you want to be here."

She must have felt him tense.

"Well not the only reason," she amended, and he felt her cheek turn up in a smile against his chest.

"And this is a pretty sudden turn around. I mean, up until right now I've either been annoying you or ignoring you the whole time we've known each other."

"Because I'm an idiot," he added quickly.

"Because you're an idiot," she agreed, but it sounded soft and kind the way she said it. "I wanted to help you, to get to know you, because Steve Rogers seems like he'd be a really great guy to know, but we don't really know each other yet. And I won't be your crutch." She sounded firm at this, "You can't all of a sudden just decide that you're going to dive into a girl like she's the one thing in the 21st century that you don't mind. I can't be everything, no one person can be."

She was right, he knew. Because it would be so easy to go on being closed off, to put everything on her and continue to avoid the rest of the modern world.

It didn't mean he liked it though.

"So," he managed finally, "what does that mean…for, for this, I mean." He pulled her a little tighter to him.

"It means," she pulled away to look at him, "When I walk off this balcony, we're going to hit reset. We can forget that whole chunk of time where you couldn't stand me, and that whole chunk of time where I ignored you, and we can start over. Get to know each other, as friends."

"As friends?" he must have sounded dismayed, because she grinned.

"At least to start out with," her fingers at his low back drew a slow circle.

"The minute you walk off the balcony," he confirmed. She nodded.

"Well then," he took a breath, "I'll just have to make sure you can't forget about everything when you do." And, in what was probably the boldest move of his life up to that point, he leaned in swiftly and captured her mouth again.

She let out a little squeak of surprise, her breath puffing against his cheek, before going pliant in his arms, her mouth opening, her arms tightening around his waist, one hand climbing up his spine.

He kissed her the very best he knew how. He hadn't kissed all that many women, and he hadn't done it all that many times, so maybe they were just right together, but it was as easy as breathing; the way their mouths fit together, the way she tipped her head so he could press closer to her, the slick of her tongue against his bottom lip, the way even when they fought to dominate the kiss, no one was losing.

She was breathless and flushed when they finally pulled apart, and he could have gone on kissing her forever.

But she moved away from him and picked up her book. "Goodnight Steve," she said, and her voice was steady as she smiled at him. But he saw her touch her lips with the tips of her fingers as she walked through the door, and it made him feel light in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time.

The next day, it was quiet in the tower when he got up, but for the first time since Darcy's birthday, someone had made a fresh pot of coffee for him.

It must have been Darcy, because sitting beside it was a book. East of Eden. It looked well loved.

He looked to the publication date. 1952.

There was writing on the inner cover. At the top of the blank page was written: "For Darcy, Read everything you can get your hands on. This one's good. Love, Granny Lewis." The writing was faded and smudged.

Below it, in fresh ink, was a new dedication.

"For Steve, the beginning of your slow introduction to the 21st century. Who knows, maybe you'll get to the 60's by Christmas. Love, Darcy."


	2. Chapter 2

Well I guess something's got to give something's gotta snap

Something must be frayed 'cause it's all in lines and it's all in grids

There's codes in sounds there are codes in lines

If we all lay down we can see it all from the ground

I know your arms are shaking from holding up the sky

Rest Your Arm (Low low low la la la love love love)

It would have been easy to make a change for her, to make a change _about _her. But she had been right. She was right a lot of the time. It was a bit annoying really, but now that he knew her a little, and wanted to know her more, it was the sort of annoying that made him smile rather than snap.

So instead of finding a new reason to ignore the world around him, he started making a concerted effort to find out about it.

"So," he approached Darcy with a bit of trepidation. He hadn't seen her since two nights ago on the balcony. Not due to any effort on either of their parts, but because Steve couldn't put down _East of Eden _and a mild Avengers related situation had intervened. "What's next on the reading list?"

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Already? Even with that whole…robot thing last night?"

"Couldn't put it down," he said, sitting in an overstuffed chair across from where she was curled up on the couch. "And the robot thing was over pretty quickly. Banner seemed to have a great time. The rest of us mostly stood around and watched."

Maybe it was a bit of an oversimplification, but it had been kind of _fun_. Clearly, Natasha had spread the word to the team that Steve had started mending his fences, and they had given up on the silent treatment like it had never happened.

Not that they wouldn't have taken orders from the Captain anyways, but there was something comforting about Tony poking fun at him for having no idea what a circuit board was.

"Well, did you like it?" She put aside her own book, pulling herself upright.

"The robots?"

"The book, you meatball," she rolled her eyes and wacked him on the arm with her paperback. He was pretty sure his answering smile was foolish, but he didn't care.

"It wasn't exactly what I thought you would have chosen," he said with a wry grin. "But it was gripping."

"You thought I was going to go easy on you, huh?" Darcy asked with a laugh.

"I suppose I did," and he was beginning to realize by the way she looked positively gleeful about this that he had a lot to learn about her.

"Well how would that help to broaden your cultural comfort zone Captain Rogers?" she was awfully smug.

"Alright, point taken professor Lewis," he grinned. "What's next? What are you reading?"

"No skipping," she said, "there's a lot of context you are gonna need before you can appreciate the staggering genius of David Sedaris." She paused, considering, "I think your next assignment is to actually leave the tower without your suit on." She grinned, "Go find out what Starbucks is and bring me back something chocolaty."

"You don't want to come?" he was genuinely surprised. It was probably the first normal conversation they had ever had, and the way she kept smiling at him…

She just picked up her book and waived it at him, "Some of us don't have as much down time, Cap. And I'm sure you'll be fine on your own. Just remember to ask for help if you feel any stranger danger."

She was teasing, he was pretty sure of that. "Stranger danger?" he couldn't help but ask.

"S'How they used to teach us about being safe in elementary school," she supplied, opening her book to her marker. "Don't forget lots of whip cream."

He was clearly being dismissed.

As he walked out of the tower lobby, he started to wonder exactly how seriously Darcy was taking this whole 'starting over' thing. Because even though he felt easier around her, and she smiled, and teased, it wasn't nearly the same as the way she had looked up at him when she was pressed against him on the balcony, and Steve didn't know if he'd ever have the nerve to be that bold again.

"So Cap," Clint pulled up a chair to the kitchen table, slinging himself over it backwards. That man could never just sit down like a normal human being, "You've decided to stop being an ass to Darcy, I hear."

That man could never just be tactful like a normal human being.

"Yes, I suppose that's the long and the short of it," he said, putting down his coffee.

"Does that mean you're unclenching a bit? Because Tony is _useless _as a wing man, and there's this band playing tonight just down the street. Wanna go?"

"Unclenching?" because it was the first in a long list of things in that sentence that didn't quite make sense to him.

"Oh come on Steve," Clint rolled his eyes, "You've been keeping yourself so far away from anything that could be characterized as fun that doesn't involve beating the crap out of something that you might as well still be frozen."

Steve ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "Am I going to have to have this conversation with _everyone," _he half muttered.

"Oh is _that_ what you talked to Darcy about," Clint raised his eyebrows, "_fun_?" The suggestion was unmistakable.

"Nothing like that," Steve lied through his teeth immediately, "She just had similar things to say about me…not really acclimatizing very well."

"So come out, acclimatize, have some fun!" Clint wheedled. "You're a free man! What better way to get used to the 21st century than to meet a modern girl."

Steve most definitely did _not _want to go out and meet a modern girl. But then again, he also hadn't wanted to walk around the city by himself yesterday, and that had turned out okay. And if Darcy really thought he should go out and find a place for himself in this world without her help, well then he had better get to it, shouldn't he?

He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was more irritation and a bit of bruised ego that lead him to accept Clint's offer than a real desire to get out and meet people.

He had to admit, after he made it back to the Tower and saw Tony and Clint sufficiently hydrated and tucked into bed, that he had had a pretty good time.

It was…normal, familiar even, hanging out with a few of his comrades in arms. It reminded him of some of those glory days with the Howling Commandos. And maybe the content of the conversation had changed a bit, and maybe he had to ask them to explain a reference every now and again, but it was like variations on a theme. It wasn't as different, or as frightening, as he had thought.

And after his very firm negative reaction to Tony's first attempt to introduce him to a woman, they got the message, and didn't try again.

"Heard you went out with the boys last night." Darcy wandered into the kitchen, setting a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

Steve looked up, he was working on a crossword.

"Yeah," he said with a little grin, "Someone told me I should get out and see the world."

"Sounds like a very smart person," she quipped, resting against the counter as she waited for her coffee. "Did you have any fun?"

"You know," he said, setting down his pen, "It wasn't all that different from hanging out with my squad in the old days. I mean, I still don't get all the movie references, but the idea is the same."

"They didn't shock you with their foul language and modern ideas?" She waggled her eyebrows with false drama.

He laughed, "You know, I don't think anyone in the modern world has shocked me quite as much as Bucky used to, the way he used to talk about dames…" he trailed off with a grin, only a little bit sad.

"Bucky?" Darcy asked carefully.

"He's…he was my best friend," said Steve carefully, "And the best man to have at your side in a pinch." He paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up, "and he had more luck with women than anyone I've ever seen." He left it at that, not willing to go too far down this particular path over the breakfast table.

"Sounds like a good man," said Darcy carefully, and then let the subject drop when Steve didn't do anything more than nod.

"So what about you," she said, sounding a bit forced, "you meet any dames last night?"

This set him off balance for a moment. What did she think of him? That he just went around being bold and kissing girls on balconies all the time? That he'd really be that fickle in his intentions? Did it mean that _she _was that fickle? Could she really push aside what had happened on the balcony only a week ago so firmly out of her mind? Hadn't it meant anything to her at all?

He realized he had been silent for too long. A thick and uncomfortable tension was filling the room.

"A few," he said evenly. And then after an expectant silence, "they were very…modern."

He was looking directly at her, trying to read her reaction. Did she _want _him to be seeing other women? Is that what she meant when she said she couldn't be the only thing tying him here?

She was looking at him, but she was hard for him to read. She could be very closed off, he was discovering, when there was something she wanted to hide.

The buzz of the coffee machine startled them out of their standoff.

"I better get down to the lab," she said quickly, as she poured herself a cup, "Jane's on a roll or something." She paused by the doorway, "I'm glad you had fun Steve," she said. And she sounded like she meant it, but damned if he knew what she meant _by _it.

"Got another one for you Steve," Darcy flopped down on the couch next to him in the living room.

"Another what?" he asked, somewhat surprised to see her around on a Friday night. While he had been spending more and more time with the team, and out in the world in general, he seemed to be spending less and less time with her. Or rather, the time that he _could _be spending with her was bothering him more and more.

In answer, she plopped a book down on the couch between them.

"To Kill a Mockingbird?" he read the title questioningly. "Is it about hunting or something?"

Darcy laughed. "No Steve, just read it. I guarantee you about 90% of everyone you meet today read it in eighth grade English class."

He flipped to the inside cover. He was rather disappointed to find no inscription. But the publication date did catch his eye.

"1960?" he asked, "It's another month until Christmas," it was the first time he'd made a remark anywhere close to touching on that night.

"Bruce said you made a Star Wars joke the other night," she said with a grin, "I figured since you were skipping ahead anyways…"

"Natasha, of all people, was horrified that I hadn't seen it," he said. And, taking the book as a good sign, he soldiered forward, "You know, everyone seems to be pretty keen on taking me out to experience modern culture." _Except for you_. He felt like the subtext was hanging in the air between them.

Apparently, she didn't pick up on it.

"And yet here you are, staying in on a Friday night," she quipped.

"I'm _vegging_," he said, rather awkwardly attempting to use the "air quotes" Tony had explained last week.

Darcy burst out laughing, and all the discomfort and awkwardness he had been feeling, not knowing where he stood with her, just seemed to melt away for the moment.

"Did I do that wrong?" he asked, her laughter making him smile.

"No no," she said wiping at her eyes, "it was just so…"

"Awkward?" Steve suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed, "it was awkward." But she elbowed him playfully.

"You want to _veg_ with me?" he laid it on a little thick, just to see her smile, "Natasha queued up a bunch of modern interpretations of Shakespeare. She said it would be instructive."

"She's probably right," said Darcy, "I'll go make some popcorn."

Steve waited until she had moved into the kitchen to grin like an idiot.

When she came back, though, she sat a little farther from him, and placed the bowl of popcorn in between them.

"Which Shakespeare play is this one?" Steve asked in confusion after a moment.

"Hamlet," said Darcy around a mouthful of popcorn. Steve found it unreasonably adorable.

"But…with lions?" he asked again.

She threw a bit of popcorn at his head with surprising accuracy. "Just watch the movie doofus," she said with a grin.

It had taken him a while, and a lot of nerve to work up to it, but it was mid-December, and the holidays had always been nostalgic for him. And the thought of his first Christmas in this new world made him ache for the old one. So he sat down one day and made himself remember.

He pulled out his laptop, opened an internet search, and started looking.

He was surprised by the amount of material he found. They were all there, the Howling Commandos, Howard Stark, Peggy, Bucky. Black and white photos, history books, scratched and choppy propaganda reels.

Families, children, productive lives.

And finally, gravestones, endings, plots and plaques that verified the utter emptiness of each and every important person of his life before.

There was a knock on the door.

He looked up sharply, surprised to find his face damp with tears.

"Who is it," his voice was thick.

"It's me," Darcy's voice was low and familiar. "Jarvis said maybe you could use a friend?"

He let out a breath, and then got up and opened the door.

"Oh Steve," She was looking up at him again, present and focused.

Her hand reached up, cupping his face, her thumb wiping at his tears.

He pulled her inside, closing his door behind them, and just wrapped his arms around her and let his head rest against hers. Let her gently smooth her hands across his back, and let himself not worry about what it meant or where they stood for now, because it was okay that they were standing right here.

After a few minutes, he pulled himself away and led her to sit on the edge of his bed. And he sat with her, and he told her the stories about Bucky you couldn't find on the internet, and he told her about Peggy, and the commandos, and he didn't mind that he cried for some of it, and her arm around his waist and her head resting against his shoulder made it alright.

He thought, maybe, that after that, the distance that she held between them might disappear, that maybe she would give him an opening, and he could be bold.

But it didn't happen.

He could feel her watching him though, he could _see _it. Probably because he was watching her as well.

Whatever dance it was they were doing, Steve definitely didn't know the steps and she wouldn't give him an inch so that he could learn.

It was frustrating, in more ways than one. He often found himself wondering what it meant that she could annoy him so easily. The way she got to him, got under his skin with unceasing accuracy, it reminded him of Bucky, and it made him know intimately and exactly the sort of feeling that could lead a girl like Peggy to fire a gun at someone who was pissing her off.

Not that he would _ever_. But he thought it some days, when she would tell him about something close to her heart, but never let him in, or when she would move just a little bit farther away if he tried to press closer.

Evidently, they were becoming fairly obvious about it.

Or not, but they were in a house full of incredibly observant people.

"So," Clint vaulted up into the back of the couch where Steve was sitting, half watching TV, half running through what Darcy possibly could have meant by her quip this morning that he could use a bit more _experience_. "You and Darce, hey?" He planted his feet on the seat next to Steve and balanced effortlessly on the top cushion.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, trying to look like he hadn't just been thinking about what kind of experience she might have meant and the experiences he'd really like to have with her.

"I'm not blind Steve," he said rather smugly, "In fact, I'm kind of known for being good at _seeing _things."

"Oh," Steve questioned in as casual a tone as he could manage, eyes focused forward, "And what is it that you think you see?"

"You and Darcy making yourselves miserable with whatever weird little chess game you are playing."

"Oh," said Steve stiffly, "That."

"Listen Cap, I'm not gonna get all awkward about this, because I get ya. I mean, toss myself off a building? Sure. Talk to someone about _feelings_? No thank you. But just make a goddamn move already. You'll never know until you do." He spun his feet around and hopped off the couch. "Plus, pretty sure Tasha is a heartbeat away from putting some money on the outcome, so you might want to avoid that."

Steve often got the feeling, when Clint was around, that he was being talked _at_ rather than too. Didn't mean the man didn't have a point though.

"Hey Darcy," his hands were sweaty. He couldn't remember one single instance in his life since the serum where he was conscious of his hands being sweaty.

"Hey Steve," she was baking something. Must be oatmeal shortbread. He had been informed earlier in the week that there was a very important and traditional Christmas cookie order that must be followed, and the thought of being a part of her Christmas traditions had made him smile.

"You have a minute?" he must have sounded somewhat serious, because she put down the bowl she was holding and turned to face him. She had a little swipe of flour on her cheek and her hair was fighting to escape from its messy top knot. And she was so beautiful to him that it almost made his heart stop.

"Yeah, of course," she looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I was wondering…" he really should have run through this in his head a few more times. "You know Tony's big Christmas party next week?"

"Oh yeah," she said brightly, smiling, "Should be really fun."

"So…you're planning to go?" he winced. Of _course _she was planning to go. She had been talking about it since early November.

She gave him a bit of an incredulous look, because she knew exactly how stupid of a question it was.

"Were you going to, ah…go…with anyone?" He should have worn the suit. It would have looked stupid, hanging out in the kitchen, but at least he usually knew what to say when he was wearing it.

"Oh," she froze, like a deer in headlights, and Steve's stomach sank, "I think we're all planning on going together. I mean, Pep and Tony'll be there early, but the rest of us are getting a fancy limo or something. Should I…do we need room for any more? Are you…bringing someone?"

"No Darcy," he sighed in frustration. "Of _course _I'm not." He had his answer, he supposed as he repressed the urge to scuff at the ground when he turned to go. How many times would she have to push him towards other women before he got the hint?

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" the indignation in her voice just _pushed _right at his frustration and he turned back to face him, all that nervous tension somehow just boiling right over.

"It means," he ground out, "that I'm _really _sick of always loosing things I want."

"_Loosing_?" she sounded a bit breathless, like the wind had been knocked out of her. But he was on a roll now.

"I get that I never really _had _anything, I do. I just wish…I just wish you'd told me, that night. I wish you'd just said you didn't want…" his nerve only went so far, and they had made a currency of holding back words for so long, he didn't want to be the one to say it.

"Steve…" her eyes were wide, and she looked so _surprised_ that he wondered for a moment if maybe he'd got entirely the wrong end of the stick somewhere along the line.

And then the building's alarm started blaring.

They stood there, Jarvis calling the Avengers to assemble on the roof, for a long moment.

"I have to go," he said finally. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

She reached out and took his hand. "Come find me when you get home," she said, gripping his fingers so tight it almost hurt, "please."

When they finally made it back to the tower, almost 12 hours later, he was in no shape to find Darcy.

He had almost become accustomed to coming out of a fight exhausted but relatively unharmed. Whatever that…thing in the water off the coast had been, though, it had cost him a bit more than he was used to.

And there was nothing the medical staff could do for the pain, so he was lying in his bed, trying not to move as he could _feel _his ribs grinding back into place.

Time ticked by at a painfully slow rate, so he was almost relieved for the distraction when Jarvis announced that Darcy was at the door, and should he show her in? Almost relived, but it wasn't quite enough to calm the churning in his gut at the thought of seeing her right now. His defenses were low, and after…whatever that was in the kitchen, he was even more unsure of how to _be _around her.

It didn't stop him from letting her in, though. He didn't think there was anything that ever could.

"Hey," she said quietly, hovering at the door.

"Hi," he responded awkwardly as he tried to sit up, and then immediately regretted it, collapsing back against the pillows with a groan.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from over by the doorway.

"I'm fine," he said automatically, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to school his expression. "I'm fine," he repeated.

"You're _not_," said Darcy, her voice sounding thick and scratchy. "Tony said…but I didn't really believe him."

"I'll _be _fine," he amended with a grimace, "Will you…will you just come over here?"

He could hear the pathetic edge to his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He worried, though, because she looked wary as she approached.

But she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and reached out a tentative hand, cool against his forehead, as she smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

"How're you feeling," she asked gently, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

"Better," he answered unthinkingly, but was pleased to see the ghost of a smile on her face anyways.

"I didn't know…." She swallowed heavily, "I didn't know you could get hurt like this." Her face looked very pale in the dim light coming through the windows.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, the whole vulnerability thing isn't too good for my image."

"So Captain America gets to defeat the bad guys and get all the red carpet press, while Steve Rogers has to take all the shit home with him." She said flatly.

"Doesn't sounds like a very good deal when you put it like that," he tried to keep his tone light, but it wasn't very effective. He winced as something in his chest snapped back into place with an audible pop.

Darcy's hand clutched his arm and she gasped. "Jesus Steve," she breathed.

"It'll be fine," he said weakly, "one of the cons of quick healing, is all."

"You all hide it so well," she said shakily, "what it really means to do what you do."

"It's part of the job," Steve said evenly, recognizing the tone in her voice with a sinking feeling, "Honestly I think all that red carpet press stuff is worse," he tried to joke. But it was lacking any kind of enthusiasm, because he knew this moment. This was the moment where someone figured out that it wasn't an easy thing to be around someone who did what he did. It was the moment where someone got out while the getting was good.

Darcy didn't really answer him, but after a moment, her fingers still wrapped tight around his arm, she said "I was so scared for you tonight."

"I'm sorry," he said resignedly, "I don't ever want to make you worry like that."

"Yeah, well," said Darcy with a strangled laugh, "it's a little late for that now."

"Darcy," he started, not really knowing where he was going with it, but she interrupted him anyways.

"Shhh," she squeezed his arm, "Don't worry about it. We can talk about it later. Just tell me what I can do."

Steve closed his eyes for a moment. He knew he should just smile and tell her he was fine, and let her go back to her life, stop fighting and let her push him away. Because he thought maybe he understood now. Even if she had _meant _that kiss on the balcony, even if, all else being equal, she would be with him, things weren't equal, and she was _right _to not want the Captain in her life.

But he was going to have to do the right thing tomorrow, because right now he couldn't contain his anger at all of the things that being Captain America had stolen from him, and Steve Rogers was going to take something that was _his _for once, dammit.

"Stay," he said simply, looking up at her. "Just stay."

She bit her lip, but she nodded. She slipped carefully under the covers as he held them up for her, and they lay there quietly, his chest pressed against her back, one arm under her head, and the smell of her hair floating back to him as he breathed deeply. She tensed every time he did, waiting out the pain with him as his injuries healed. But she didn't leave. And finally, well into the early hours of the morning, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, his injuries were mostly healed and the relief at being free from the pain was a palpable thing.

But then he noticed that he was alone, and the sheets beside him were cool.

He sighed heavily. It hadn't been his best decision ever, asking her to stay. Now, with the feel of her pressed against him indelibly marked on his skin, it was going to be even harder to let her go. But he hated that look that had been in her eyes last night, the fear and the worry. He never wanted to be the cause of it.

Right now, if he could do it, he would quit all of his abilities; quit being the Captain, just for this one shot at something approaching a normal life.

But he couldn't stop being who he was, even for her.

She was in the kitchen when he walked in, looking freshly showered, but tired. She was talking with Natasha in low tones, but they stopped abruptly when they saw him.

"Morning Steve," Natasha said evenly, standing up from the table, "I was just on my way out." This, for her, was about as obvious as her shouting 'you two need to talk' over the tower's PA system.

But she was right, so he just nodded at her absently as she left, his eyes fixed on Darcy.

"Good morning," he said carefully, not moving from the doorway. He wanted to keep his exits open. He was such a coward.

"Listen," she said without preamble, "About what you said in the kitchen, before…"

Steve closed his eyes, he felt like he was in freefall, the way his gut lurched. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to steel himself to have this conversation.

"I said a lot of things," he finally said quietly, looking back to her. It wasn't fair to her, he knew that. But was it too goddamn much to ask that Steve Rogers catch a break one of these days?

"Yeah," she agreed evenly, "but it was the part about…about wanting me, that I haven't been able to get out of my head. Especially not after last night."

He sucked in a breath, the way she was kept pushing into his world only to pull back was rubbing him raw. "You say that like I haven't been wanting you for _months,_" he ground out irritably. "You just keep pushing me away. I wish I had never said anything."

He also immediately wished that he hadn't said _that. _But what's done is done, and he just closed his eyes again, willing this whole mess to just be _over_.

There was a long pause. And then finally, "Steve…" and she sounded so lost that he turned back to her in spite of himself. She was crying, tears streaking her cheeks.

He moved towards her, taking her hand before he even thought about it. "Hey," he said, the look on her face sucking all of the venom right out of him, "it's okay. You never promised me anything. I'll get over it." He smiled weakly, "besides, you were right, there is a lot of good stuff for me here." He squeezed her hand, "I'm even starting to get used to Clint," he tried to joke, but he could hear that it fell flat.

"No," she shook her head firmly, "That's not what I…" she laughed damply. "God, I am so _bad _at this."

"Bad at what?" he asked gently, the smallest beginnings of something like hope bubbling upwards.

"_This_," she gestured between the two of them. "I keep screwing things up. You should really stay very far away from me." She wiped at her eyes with one hand, but Steve kept an iron grip on the other, refusing to let her pull away.

"Why?" he asked, unwilling to let this go now that they were finally _talking_.

She laughed darkly. "Steve, come on. I'm a mess. I thought the best way to help you get over what you had lost was to be really irritating and throw it in your face all the time. And I had the _excellent _judgment to fall for you even when you were barely speaking to me. I slipped up, that night on the balcony. I should never have…" she trailed off for a moment, "Steve," she said finally, "you deserve so much more than me. I've been trying to stay away so you could…so you could find someone else, someone better." She refused to meet his eyes.

"Darcy," said Steve, mind reeling, stuck somewhere in the vicinity of _fall for you_, "How can you think that?"

She shrugged, chin ducked, avoiding his gaze, but her fingers were still gripping his hand where he held her, so he wasn't going to let this go. "I'm just…I'm convenient, Steve. I'm the only single girl you spend any amount of time with. How do you know what's out there for you if you won't even look?"

"Why should I look," he asked, "when I've already found what I want?" He willed her to _look _at him. To stop thinking that she had all the answers for a moment and really _look_.

But she was avoiding his gaze. God she was stubborn when she got something into her head.

But she _wanted _him. She wasn't running away because she didn't want to be with him, but because she had some crazy idea that there was anyone out there that was _better _than her. And _that _he could remedy.

Let it never be said that Steve Rogers backed down from a challenge.

"Darce," he said, tipping her chin up with a soft smile, "Pay attention for a minute would you?" her eyes flicked up to his, and he kissed her. It didn't seem odd to him, not at all, that while he'd never been very good at finding the right moment to kiss other girls, that he had no problem kissing Darcy. It was different than the other time on the balcony, because there was a lot more between them now. Friendship and trust and, if he was honest, a long simmering tension that started boiling over the moment he felt her lips part under his.

She made a desperate little noise in the back of her throat as her teeth grazed his lip and her fingers clutched at his shirt and Steve was gone. One hand tangled in her hair, the other clutched at her hip, fingers digging into flesh as he pressed against her, trying to put every last ounce of what he felt into it, trying to make her understand.

Her nails scraped along the small of his back, hand worked up under his shirt and he had to pull away to stop himself from throwing her against the wall and never letting her leave. He was breathing hard and he pulled his hips away from hers to preserve his modesty as he tried to get himself under control.

"Shit," he swore, looking at her mussed hair and her swollen lips, "I didn't mean to…"

"Steven Grant Rogers," her voice was low and husky, "don't you _dare _apologize for that."

He grinned, "yes ma'am." But his amusement was short lived as she looked at him seriously.

"You…you really mean it, don't you." She said hesitantly.

"Every word of it," he agreed readily, "But if this isn't what you want…if it's…too much, we can just…I can walk away." He wasn't really sure if he could, but he had to give her the option, "I know that…the Captain…it's a lot to deal with. I would understand…"

"I was really scared last night," she said, breaking her gaze, but then she moved closer to rest her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her gladly. "It _was _a lot to take." He could feel her breath against his shoulder and he held her a little tighter, as if he could take all her burdens onto himself.

"Natasha set me straight about it though," he thought he could feel her smile.

"Oh yeah?" he prompted gently, because he wasn't quite sure of his footing here yet.

"Yeah," she said, and that was definitely a smile. "In typically blunt Natasha fashion. She asked me if pushing you away had made me love you any less." Steve froze. "It didn't," Darcy went on. "So Tasha quite rightly pointed out that it was better to just be with you if I was going to worry about you either way."

"You love me?" Steve blurted out, pushing her away a bit so he could look at her.

"Oh," there was a blush creeping up her neck, "Well…yeah. Obviously," she said sheepishly.

"Well it wasn't obvious to me," said Steve with a grin that he felt was about to split his face in two. He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," she leaned into his hand, "we really need to work on our communication skills."

That triggered a thought, he had barely dared to let himself think it before, but that didn't make it any less true. "You know I love you too, right?" he asked.

"I do now," said Darcy, smiling up at him as she twined her fingers through his hair and pulled him down to her so she could kiss him, soft and sweet.

They were somewhat rudely interrupted before things could go any further as Clint came barreling into the kitchen on a bee-line for the coffee pot. He froze halfway across the room and turned to look at Steve and Darcy, who were frozen, mouths open in surprise, arms still tangled around each other. Steve knew that there was no hiding that they had been pretty seriously making out.

The silence dragged on for a moment. And then Clint said "FINALLY," in a long suffering tone and continued on to the coffee.

Steve heard a little snort from where Darcy had pressed her face into his chest. It quickly progressed to a full blown laugh. He couldn't stop himself from joining her. Clint raised an eyebrow at them as Darcy was half doubled over, clutching Steve's arm for support as she was caught up in gales of laughter.

"Jesus, get a room," said Clint sourly from the coffee pot, but he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his grin, so Steve just winked at him, picked Darcy up in one smooth motion, and walked out of the kitchen.

Some time later, after finding a bit more private a place to get adjusted to this new development, Steve lay stretched out beside Darcy, a hand idly running up and down her arm. There were some rules from his time that Steve still thought were pretty important. Especially the one about how you didn't just sleep with the girl you loved, even if you really wanted to. But after nothing but kissing her (well, necking like teenagers, really) he could tell that it wasn't exactly going to be easy. He smiled. There was a lot to be said for things that weren't easy, in his opinion.

"Hey Darcy," he said after a comfortable moment of stillness had passed.

"Hmmm?" she sounded dreamy and distracted and he would happily take credit for that.

"Will you go to Stark's Christmas party with me?" he asked like he should have in the kitchen the day before, like he should have done _weeks _ago, to be honest.

"Yeah," she said, quick and easy, a smile on her lips, "I'd love to."

"It'll mean…" he paused, threading his fingers through her, "there'll be press there. The Captain will have to make an appearance."

She paused, then shifted to look at him, her head propped up on her elbow. "I can just go with the group, meet you on the other side of the red carpet," she said, eyes clear and understanding.

"No," he said, squeezing her fingers, "part of me wants that, just to keep you safe. But it isn't in me to hide this. I want you there with me, if you think you wouldn't mind…"

She smiled brilliantly at him. "Bring on the tabloids Captain," she said leaning over to kiss him on the forehead, "there's nothing I wouldn't do so long as I can come home with you."

He rolled over, pinning her on her back between his arms before leaning down to press a quick kiss against her lips. "Does that mean I can skip ahead to what you're reading?" he grinned and reached out to grab the paperback that sat by her bed.

She rolled her eyes and snatched it away from him, whacking him lightly on the head. "Dream on Steve," she grinned, "You're barely ready for the 70s."

Her dress was red velvet, something out of his era really. The neckline dipped just far enough to be decent, the bodice clung to her waist like a second skin, and the full skirt hung in rich folds to just below her knees. She had made Steve's mouth go dry when he had picked her up at her door. He thought maybe a few other people thought she looked pretty swell as well, judging by the way the red carpet exploded in flashbulbs the moment they stepped out of the car.

She looked at bit nervous, so he leaned over and pressed a kiss behind her ear.

"Hey Cap, who's that lovely young lady!" a carrying voice behind a camera shouted at them. It was followed by what seemed like a million others.

"You sure you're ready to go public with Captain America?" he whispered to her, squeezing her hand.

"Hell no," she whispered back in a determined voice, "I am ready to go to my friend's Christmas party with the man I love. Anyone who wants to make anything else of it can fuck right off."

He laughed, and there would be pictures all over of that moment, his head tilted back and eyes closed in mirth, Darcy tucked in close beside him, love in her eyes and a sardonic twist on her lips.

They started down the carpet, and Steve called out to the reported with the loud voice.

"Sorry fella," he pulled Darcy a bit closer, "but this one's mine."


End file.
